Paper Flowers
by Venomous Guise
Summary: SEE FULL SUMMARY INSIDE. Strange things are happening around Hogwarts. Harry and Draco both think they're hearing strange voices and rumors of a strange new power are floating around. To make matters worse, it seems like someone is stalking them. HPDM, AU
1. Harry's Confusion

Summary: Strange things are happening around Hogwarts. Harry and Draco both think they're hearing strange voices and rumors of a strange new power are floating around. To make matters worse, the boys start receiving mysterious notes and it seems like someone is stalking them. Also, Harry is struggling to come out to his friends, but what happens when Draco begins questioning his own sexuality? And what do the pair have in common? Secrets, lies, and romance abound. HPDM. AU.

**The first few chapters are going to be slightly humorous, but the plot and theme are going to get a lot more serious (and a little bit darker) as the story progresses. Just thought I'd let you all know.**

Disclaimer: I don't own anything Harry Potter. If I did, Draco would be mine. All mine. (grins)

**A/N: **I went through the first four chapters and cleaned up some typos and switched some stuff around to better suit the story. (29 October 2008)

Anyway, on with the story...

**Chapter One: Harry's Confusion**

_Gods, I hate him._

The Boy-Who-Lived absent-mindedly pushed his cold eggs around on his plate. He hadn't eaten anything this morning; his appetite seemed to have vanished upon seeing a certain pale blond boy making obscene hand gestures toward him in the halls.

A full week of the new term hadn't even passed and the stupid git was already starting trouble. He was thinking about none other than the infamous Draco Malfoy, who was currently trying to catch his attention, his fellow Slytherins snickering all the while.

Harry glared and stabbed at a sausage angrily with his fork, muttering a few choice four-letter words. He hated it when Malfoy did this sort of thing. _Does he always have to be so bloody superior? Why can't he just ever let me be? Stupid git._

"Dun pay any tenshion to 'im, 'Arry," Ron said thickly through a mouthful of porridge, spewing his neighbors with gooey bits of it in the process. He swallowed, much to everyone's relief, and continued. "That was four years ago. You'd think old ferret-face could come up with something better than that. He says worse things to you on a daily basis, so it's not really that bad.

"Besides, it's not like it was completely your fault. I mean, even though everyone _else_ didn't faint..." He trailed off as he tried to muffle a grunted "Oomph!" as Hermione elbowed him in the ribs.

She glared at Ron and huffed, sending Harry an apologetic look. Harry shrugged and tried to lose himself in his thoughts once again, but someone nearby was muttering about first-year mudbloods rather loudly.

_Go be rude somewhere else_. Couldn't they be quieter? He was trying to think. Harry leaned forward on his elbow and rested his chin on his hand. He let his eyes wander until they rested on the Slytherin table, where Pansy Parkinson was trying to rub Malfoy's arm.

Harry's eyes narrowed as he focused on the angry form of Malfoy, who was viciously spearing a sausage on his golden fork.

_Arrogant prick. I hope he chokes on that sausage he's eating. Or maybe his pumpkin juice. It doesn't matter. It's not like anyone would _want_ to save his pompous arse anyway. Except maybe Parkinson...but that's not really saying much, is it?_

Harry stifled a laugh as he imagined Pansy Parkinson screeching and running around like a decapitated chicken while Malfoy choked to death. His eyes darkened. _Not really a death fit for a precious Malfoy, I suppose, but then again, what is? Serves him right, the overconfident prat._

Upon closer inspection, Harry saw that said Malfoy actually _was_ choking on his pumpkin juice in an undignified manner and Pansy looked distraught. The blond sputtered and gasped, clutching at the air wildly.

Shock rippled through his body and then was replaced by a smirk worthy of the Prince of Slytherin himself. After all, it was only a coincidence. Malfoy actually choking during breakfast was simply a welcome surprise.

"…think he's gay. Really, 'Mione, there's no other explanation. I mean, look at him! It's obvious. Just look at how he acts if you don't believe me. Look at his—" Now it was Harry's turn to choke on his pumpkin juice as he was jerked unceremoniously from his thoughts.

"Harry, mate, are you all right?" Ron asked, thumping Harry on the back a little too enthusiastically to be entirely sincere. "You've seemed kind of out of it since Malfoy said those things to you the other day. You really shouldn't let the bastard get to you like that."

"Like you're one to talk," Harry muttered bitterly.

It was partly true, though- he _had_ been really distracted lately, but he couldn't exactly figure out why. Hermione snorted with derision at the redhead's display of compassion; this was clearly _not_ Ron's thing.

"Yeah...just...er...fine. I'm fine," Harry managed weakly. Inside, he panicked—they couldn't know, could they? He didn't think he was being that obvious.

What should he say? What _could_ he say that wasn't an outright lie? His mind raced as he frantically struggled to come up with a plausible response. He didn't want to come out of the broom closet yet, or so they say in the wizarding world. He wanted to, but what would everyone say if they found out the Golden Boy was gay? He was tired of hiding, but he didn't necessarily want to be in the spotlight again. He just wasn't ready; he kept telling himself he would come out as soon as he was done waiting for... for what?

Now that he thought about it, Harry couldn't come up with a good enough reason as to why he should continue to keep his closest friends in the dark.

What's the worst that could happen? Rejection? No, he could deal with that; he's put up with that throughout his whole life. He wasn't really worried about Hermione's reaction- he was sure she'd understand.

But Ron... Ron was a different matter. Harry just hoped that the infamous Weasley temper wouldn't burst out full-force. The entire school would know that Harry Potter fancied boys by the end of breakfast if that happened.

Harry took a deep breath to steady himself, hoping that Ron wouldn't cause an explosive scene and reveal his deepest secret in one fell swoop. He might as well tell them now, while everyone else was caught up in their own affairs.

_But what should I say? Sorry for not telling you earlier, guys, but I'm GAY? Oh, and by the way, I fancy MALFOY? Ha, fat chance. I'd have better luck trying to teach Hagrid's blast-ended skrewts how to tap-dance, assuming any are still alive. I better just get this over with, then._

"Ron... 'Mione... I have something to tell you. I-"

"Ha, Hermione! I told you he was gay! I told you!" Ron grinned triumphantly and beamed at Harry, who looked horrified. "I knew you'd say so, Harry! Thanks, mate, you just won me a bet. Now pay up, 'Mione. Two against one."

"Ronald Weasley, how many times MUST I tell you that it DOESN'T MATTER!" Hermione spat. She rarely got this angry, but she hated it when people as ignorant as Ron tried to judge people like this. "How do you even know if he is or not? You don't! Isn't that right, Harry?"

Harry barely looked up as he was addressed by the brunette and could only stutter unintelligibly, his embarrassment evident.

He was mortified. This was not how he had envisioned coming out. He hadn't exactly planned on being on being the object of a bet, but it could be worse. Hermione was sticking up for him and Ron apparently wasn't angry.

Hermione turned to Ron again, disgust plainly written on her face. "You only want an excuse to hate him. Honestly, Ronald, this is pathetic. I never even agreed to that despicable bet in the first place. Now if you'll kindly sit down," she motioned to his empty chair (Ron hadn't noticed he had jumped out of his seat with excitement at having his suspicions confirmed), "we could have a halfway decent breakfast... or what's left of it."

"You're just a sore loser. Harry, you agree with me, right? Of course you do, mate. Malfoy _has_ to be gay, there's no other way around it." Apparently satisfied, Ron sat down rather sheepishly as people looked around for the source of the commotion.

Hermione rolled her eyes and gave a small gasp of surprise as Harry suddenly fell off his chair and landed on his back with a dull thud.

"M-M-Malfoy?" Harry sputtered. _Malfoy? MALFOY?! Merlin, I thought they were talking about ME. But now that I think about it, I wouldn't be surprised if Malfoy was gay. Actually, I think I'd be more surprised if he wasn't._

He took Hermione's proffered hand and helped himself up.

_**I most certainly am not gay! Why would any MALE fancy me?...Then again, why wouldn't they? I guess I **_**am**_** that sexy, so I'm not really that surprised.**_

"What?" he asked, confused. He wasn't hearing things, was he?

Harry figured it was probably just some random person talking. He thought it sounded suspiciously like something Malfoy would say, but Malfoy had already left breakfast so that was pretty much impossible.

Harry rubbed his forehead in annoyance; he remembered only too clearly the _last_ time he thought he was hearing voices...

"Harry, you seem ill. I think you should lie down. Is it your... you know... your scar?" Hermione whispered, a bit too loudly for Harry's tastes. The raven-haired boy shook his head and Hermione visibly relaxed. "Well, do you want me to take you to the infirmary? Madame Pomfrey has this new potion..."

"No, I'm fine. Thanks, 'Mione." Harry took his seat and Ron nudged him, gesturing to the hundreds of eyes that were watching him with bemused expressions. Harry didn't need people calling him "scar face" or asking him if he was having menstrual problems again (he'd never forgive Fred and George for that one).

_After all,_ he thought bitterly_, I AM the supposed savior of the wizarding world. Maybe I should get some beauty rest like I'm SUPPOSED to so people can't say, "Oh look, it's poor Harry Potter and his poor scar...let's just tell him what else he's SUPPOSED to do because he's too TROUBLED to figure it out himself." Well whatever. At this rate, ignorant people are more likely to give me a headache than dear old Voldy._

He hated it when people tried to control him, to tell him what he was supposed to do and when. Harry was tired of it. Did they think he didn't have a brain_?_

_Everyone probably thinks I'm insane now. Well, even more insane, I suppose. But I don't care anymore. They can think whatever the bloody hell they want to. Malfoy, the stupid git. This is all his fault._

His mood ruined, Harry stood up and stalked out of the Great Hall, slamming the door as he exited.

**A/N:** I decided to change things up and split the old first two chapters into four new ones. The story format was just bothering me and it was too much to take in at a time. So, this new first chapter will be from Harry's perspective and the second will be Draco's perspective of the same morning, but in the new third and fourth chapters things will go back to normal. Sorry for the confusion, and don't forget to review!

And thanks to my friend draculasbride2008 for "gently encouraging" (cough) threatening (cough) me to actually continue writing this fic. I had an idea and without her breathing down my neck at school it still probably would have been a few scribbled sentences in a notebook.


	2. Draco's Confusion

**Chapter Two: Draco's Confusion**

_**Gods, I hate him.**_

The Prince of Slytherin, otherwise known as Draco Malfoy, looked around as though deeply offended.

"Who said that?" he demanded.

How dare anyone say they hated _him_? They _clearly_ didn't know who they were talking about. _It was probably some stupid first year, and a mudblood at that._

Nothing could spoil Draco's good mood (or so he thought at the time)- he had successfully irritated Potter all week and made rude gestures at him on the way to breakfast. Not only that, but he was planning the most _brilliant_ re-enactment of Potter's fainting episode from third year. After all, he had to educate the younger students who weren't around then; this was a most valuable history lesson.

He smirked. This would be the last school year for the blasted Boy-Who-Wouldn't-Die to learn his place.

Draco's question still hung in the air, unanswered. He decided to just let it go for now- he had to think of more ways to annoy Potter as much as humanly possible. He waited and eventually turned away, defeated, when Potter didn't look his way.

Then he heard that irritating person's voice again.

_**Does he always have to be so bloody superior? Why can't he ever just let me be? Stupid git.**_

Draco growled and slammed his fist on the table. How dare anyone call him a stupid git! He most certainly was not stupid. It looks like that little prat needs to be taught a lesson... Crabbe and Goyle could see to that later. That is, if they're not too busy stuffing their repulsive faces...

He watched with amusement as Weasley tried to comfort the clearly upset Potter and smirked when he saw that the ignorant redhead was only making things worse. Watching the Weasel eat proved to be as disgusting as he had expected, so he turned his attention to Pansy, who was currently trying to bat her ridiculously long eyelashes at him.

_**Go be rude somewhere else.**_

"Ex_cuse_ me?" he roared. He was sick of this person, whoever it was. "_I'm_ being rude? I'll have you know that we Malfoys have a reputation to uphold and I most certainly wouldn't-" He impatiently swatted Pansy's wandering hands away. "Can I _help_ you?"

"But, Drakkie, you know how much we love each other," Pansy whined. "I thought you wanted us to be together. I don't want to wait forever, you know..."

"Pansy, you repugnant creature! For the last time, don't you EVER call me that again. Do you understand? Apparently not. Let me make this clear: I don't like you. I never have. In all honesty, I can't stand people like you who throw themselves at other... _uninterested_... people without any regard to whether or not they are attracted to you." Draco spat.

Pansy looked put out by Draco's comment but continued her conquest of the blond boy's body, much to his irritation.

Draco angrily speared a fat, juicy sausage on his fork, pretending it was Pansy's head. He smirked with a faint trace of a genuine smile playing on his thin lips when the sausage burst, pleased that Pansy's imaginary brains were splattering all over the plate.

He shoved the meat in his mouth, chewing deliberately and with more intensity than he normally would have used. When he was done mentally pulverizing Pansy's guts he seized his goblet and thrust it to his lips, savoring the cool liquid that trickled between his lips and down his parched throat.

Draco glared as Pansy continued her infuriating ministrations. Would she _ever_ give up?

"For Salazar's sake, woman, stop doing that! I don't want to have to tell you again. I am NOT attracted to your whoring self, nor will I ever be! And while you're at it, you can take that love potion I know you're hiding and shove it up your—"

_**Arrogant prick.**_

Okay, this is going way too far. Someone needs to shut their mouth. NOW. Draco reached for his juice again and raised it to his mouth, taking a large sip.

_**I hope he chokes on that sausage he's eating. Or maybe his pumpkin juice. It doesn't matter. It's not like anyone would want to save his pompous arse anyway. Except maybe Parkinson...but that's not really saying much, is it? **_

Draco promptly choked on his mouthful of pumpkin juice, if only for the mere fact that he was shocked beyond belief at what he heard. Who would say such a thing? It had to be Potter, but he was on the other end of the Great Hall. It just didn't make any sense.

_**Not really a death fit for a precious Malfoy, I suppose, but then again, what is? Serves him right, the overconfident prat.**_

Draco tried his best to reign in his anger and ignore that last biting comment. When he finally regained his self-control, he moaned into his plate. Carrying on in this manner was not how a Malfoy should act, no matter what situation should arise. If his father ever found out about his serious lack of composure, he was done for.

He glared at his neighbors and tried to continue eating, pretending like nothing ever happened. Pansy told everyone to mind their own business, and for once in his life he was glad she was there.

Draco brushed away a loose strand of pale blond hair and sighed. He needed some new hair potion- this one was not holding up. He concentrated on fiercely buttering his toast, blocking out everything and everyone else.

The Slytherin barely registered seeing Potter choke on his own pumpkin juice and didn't think much of it. He wasn't in the mood to make fun of the messy-haired boy anymore. Draco sighed and was settling back into his thoughts when it was back again. That voice.

_**But what should I say? Sorry for not telling you earlier, guys, but I'm GAY? Oh, and by the way, I fancy MALFOY? Ha, fat chance. I'd have better luck trying to teach Hagrid's blast-ended skrewts how to tap-dance, assuming any are still alive. I better just get this over with, then.**_

At first, Draco wasn't surprised. He simply dismissed that comment as another stupid girl trying to throw herself at him. As it sunk in, though, he realized that the person had mentioned they were gay. Gay. And that meant it was a male speaker.

_Why would any MALE fancy me?_ Draco did a double take as he pondered this and then smirked as a new thought surfaced. _Then again, why wouldn't they? I guess I_ am _that sexy, so I'm not really that surprised._

Although countless girls had thrown themselves at his feet, Draco Malfoy was not a sex god. He certainly got around—he wasn't denying that, but he never felt a connection to any of the girls he'd been with. He always told himself that it was because none of them was "the one", not that he believed in that codswallop anyway.

_**Malfoy? MALFOY?! Merlin, I thought they were talking about ME. Now that I think about it, I wouldn't be surprised if Malfoy was gay. Actually, I think I'd be more surprised if he wasn't.**_

_I most certainly am not gay!_ he thought indignantly.

It was then that he noticed Pansy swatting at his arm again and puckering her lips. Draco had had enough. He sent Pansy one last murderous glare and rose from his seat.

Pansy whimpered as Draco spun on his heel and stalked out of the Great Hall without once looking back.


	3. Reminiscing

**Chapter Three: Reminiscing**

Draco Malfoy was in a foul mood as he stomped through the near-deserted corridors. To say he was irritated would be an understatement—he felt murderous. How dare anyone say those...things...about him? They weren't even true!

He was a Malfoy, for Merlin's sake, and no respectable Malfoy tolerated that sort of rude behavior, especially from those inferior to them. Draco had simply wanted to enjoy his Saturday morning breakfast and that...person...had ruined it. And then there was Pansy. As usual.

He was fed up with the pug-faced twit and her infuriating, not to mention relentless, pursuits. The stupid witch always had to botch everything. No matter what Draco did, Pansy was always two steps behind him, trying in vain to make him love her.

The slender boy scoffed. He'd probably—no, he _would_— actually like Pansy (as a friend, of course) if she didn't constantly try to woo him. After all, she was a pureblood, and from a respectable background at that. That had to count for something, right?

_Why can't the damn girl take a hint? It's not like I was being subtle. But, really, so what if she's a pureblood? I mean, there are loads of other suitable pureblood witches that are just _dying_ to have a go at me_. Draco smirked to himself in amusement as he imagined thousands of desperate young witches foaming at the mouth as they scrambled to line up in front of him to kiss his feet. _I bet even Potter would love that, wouldn't he?_

Instead of laughing (as he had intended to do), he immediately sobered and inwardly grimaced. For some reason unknown to him, Draco realized his last thought strangely appealed to him more than the first.

He shook his head vigorously (while still maintaining his poise, of course) in an attempt to clear the thoughts from his treasonous mind. Since when did he think about other _male_s wanting _that _sort of attention from him?

Although Draco had always figured that he attracted more than the usual crowd of hysterical witches-turned-fangirls (How could he not? He was dead sexy, and everyone else knew it), he had simply looked the other way. Sure, it was flattering, but he just wasn't interested.

And since when did he think about _Potter_ lusting after him?

No matter what stray thoughts flitted across his mind, there was one that unnerved the cool and collected Slytherin the most—that one nagging thought he just couldn't banish from the back of his head, no matter how hard he tried.

Why..._why_...didn't the idea of _being_ with Potter (Potter!) disgust him as much as he knew deep down it should?

This just wouldn't do. Draco stomped even louder, much like the spoiled prat people thought he was, to drown out his conflicting emotions until he arrived at a statue of an enormous bubbling cauldron complete with enchanted mist rolling off the marble surface.

He looked over his shoulder to make sure no one was watching and turned his attention back to the cauldron. As Draco gently pulled the ladle that stood frozen in the center of the lifeless brew, a portrait of a disoriented knight materialized to the right of the statue.

Sir Carrington, as the often-inebriated knight called himself, had a black snake curled around his left forearm and an unlabeled flask in his right hand. A phoenix sat perched loftily on his shoulder and a rusty old sword lay discarded and useless at his feet. Carrington hiccoughed, flashing Draco a lopsided grin and a sloppy salute as he tried desperately to brandish his unbalanced sword.

The effect was rather devastating.

"Halt, fiend! Who goes there? (hic) Oi, young Malfoy, is that (hic) you? Right-oh. Yes, yes, very well then...I say, the most (hic) interesting thing ha-happened to me today. I... (hic) ...well... (hic) can't seem to remember... Ah well... Have a nice birthday, m'boy... (hic) ...hmm... (hic) ...mmm..."

Draco rolled his eyes with distaste and ignored the drunken and disgraceful knight. He muttered the password angrily (_Devil's Brew_) and when the portrait hole swung open rather unsteadily, stepped through lightly, not caring if it slammed behind him.

Draco sighed with relief as he noticed that Pansy _still_ hadn't managed to find her way in. But then again, the brainless strumpet couldn't get in no matter how hard she tried. A trademark Malfoy smirk was plastered on his face as he relished the moment.

Being Head Boy _did_ have its perks—no other student could freely enter besides Granger, who was, of course, Head Girl.

Living with the Gryffindor know-it-all wasn't as bad as Draco had anticipated it would be. Actually, it was quite the contrary. Even though the obnoxious brunette had her quirks, Draco had soon realized that they were somewhat similar.

After the first few day of relentless verbal attacks and many power struggles, the pair had come to a mutual understanding. They no longer hated each other or fought like they used to, and despite their public status as enemies, the unlikely duo were surprisingly good friends.

Draco didn't even care that she was Muggleborn anymore; he came to realize that blood was blood and it was all the same sanguine liquid pumping through their bodies.

The only reason he still used the word mudblood was to keep up appearances. And also because the childish side of Draco still liked to set himself apart from the rest of the population. But he never mentioned that. After all, he wasn't some poor wizard with no class…

He didn't let any of the above facts be widely known, of course, because father would kill him (or worse) for being a blood traitor if he found out his only son was associating with and had befriended a Muggleborn, especially Granger of all people.

Draco and Hermione valued each other's intelligence and insight among other things. The Slytherin found that she was an excellent confidant and vice versa, despite his mask of indifference and her sometimes over-analytical nature. Unknown to anyone else, they shared their hopes and dreams, their pasts and struggles, and anything else they could think of.

They had felt secure enough in their newfound trust and friendship that Hermione had told him her deepest secret and Draco had told her of his traitorous alliance to the side of the Light. He hadn't told anyone else of this save Dumbledore, and now, the Gryffindor Golden Girl.

Speaking of secrets, Draco thought back to the time when Hermione had revealed her deepest one.

He chuckled as he remembered the look on Hermione's face when he had asked where she kept disappearing to during the night. She had told him who she had been seeing, and Draco had genuinely laughed, thinking it was a joke.

It had made perfect sense who it was, and it was actually a good match, but he just couldn't help himself- his godfather... HIS GODFATHER... being hopelessly in love with the insufferable know-it-all and shagging her senseless every other night...it was just more than he could handle at the time.

But his laughter had ceased abruptly when he had seen the passion and the fear in Hermione's eyes, and when he had felt her heartache and sense of rejection. He hadn't meant it like that (he had just been taken by surprise) but the silly girl (who was entirely too self-conscious) had thought for an instant that Draco didn't accept her anymore, that everything they had worked for was lost. She may have even thought he would turn her in, trying to get her expelled and his godfather fired.

He couldn't let that happen; he couldn't let her break, not after all she had been through with her unexpected relationship. Besides, she was now his closest friend and he loved her like a sister, even if nobody else but the two of them.

Before Hermione knew what was happening, she had been swept off her feet by warm and gentle arms and pulled into a fierce embrace. She had been shocked by this affectionate gesture coming from the Ice Prince himself, but she gave in and the two held each other, pouring out all their friendship and love and melting into one another. Neither one knew how long they stood there, arms wrapped around each other, but that first physical contact had blown away previous barriers and pretense, cementing their friendship for good.

Draco cursed and smacked his forehead as he forced himself to stop reminiscing. Was he going soft? He was having way too many sappy musings lately. If he kept this up, he's be a bloody woman in no time.

No, Draco couldn't let that happen—he was feminine enough already. Not that he would ever admit that either.

He tried to think angry, malicious thoughts, but his mind wouldn't let him disrupt his peaceful and relaxed mood.

It was then that he happened to notice he was still standing in front of the portrait hole, gaping like an idiot while he was lost in his own little world. Realizing how unattractive this made him look, Draco snapped his mouth shut and strode across the common room to a black leather sofa.

Kicking off his shoes, he shrugged off his outer robe and stretched out lazily across the sofa. He raked a smooth, manicured hand through his white-blond hair and let his pale eyes wander. Now that he thought about it, Draco hadn't really had the time to take in his new surroundings. After all, the first week of term had been really hectic, especially since he was Head Boy now.

With a lazy flick of his wand, a gently crackling fire sprang to life in the stone fireplace; with another, the lights in the room slowly dimmed. Now truly relaxed, Draco yawned and looked around the room.

Soft firelight danced on the thinly striped deep gold and hunter green walls and illuminated the rich hardwood floor. An assortment of soft leather furniture surrounded a deep mahogany coffee table that had been polished so much it gleamed. Tall bookcases bursting with old texts and various trinkets lined one wall, and ornate paintings adorned another. An enormous desk that was large enough to comfortably accommodate six people was littered with textbooks and spare parchment (in typical bookworm fashion, Draco thought). Three heavy wooden doors stood on the far wall, leading to separate bedrooms and a shared bathroom respectively.

His inspection complete and his eyelids drooping, Draco breathed deeply and slowly closed his eyes, forgetting the events of earlier that morning. Before he knew it, he was sleeping silently, his chest rising and falling with angelic grace.


	4. A Snarky Snake

**4. A Snarky Snake**

Draegan the snake slithered around in his cage (which was very roomy and much like his natural habitat), impatiently waiting for his companion to come back. The silver serpent could tell that something was upsetting his Harry. He narrowed his black-ringed emerald eyes and darted his jet-black tongue, looking for signs of danger. Nothing seemed out of place, so Draegan continued his pacing, if you will.

He hissed with pleasure as the door to the boys' dormitory swung open to reveal a very glum-looking Harry.

"_At lassst you come. I wasss worried when I sensssed you were upssset. Isss everything all right?_"

"Hey, Draegan. Sorry, I didn't bring you any leftovers today. I was a bit distracted." Harry greeted the snake and freed him from his large enclosure.

Draegan was a strange creature; Harry guessed that the snake was a cross between an occamy, a deadly magical snake, and a rare breed of magical snake known as a derset. Draegan showed signs of being both. He had tiny wings resembling those of an occamy, but they were way too small to fly with. Also unlike an occamy, he didn't have any form of legs. Much like a derset, though, Draegan had iridescent silver scales that were tinged with green and onyx and emerald eyes. Even though the snake's appearance might seem odd to some, Harry thought his familiar was beautiful.

Draegan was Harry's closest companion. He had found the snake during the summer while slaving away in his aunt's garden. The poor creature had been covered in mud and cuts and looked to be dead. Harry had taken the serpent into the house (while his aunt and uncle weren't looking, of course) and cleaned him up. He had given the snake food, water, a home, and time to heal.

He had named his new companion Draegan and they immediately started to bond. He felt as though the snake was the only one who would truly listen to him and Draegan, being a snake, could only talk to a Parselmouth. And they both knew that the only two Parselmouths around were Harry and Voldemort.

Seeing as the snake had no desire to come anywhere close the so-called Dark Lord, there really wasn't a choice. He could either bond with the teen or be lonely for the rest of his life.

The relationship between the serpent and the student wasn't that of pet and owner; the two considered themselves friends and sometimes partners in crime. And of course there was the fact that it would be a cold day in Hell before Draegan allowed _anyone_ to call him a pet.

Although most of the other students didn't realize that Harry even has a familiar, the two were now almost inseparable. Harry usually found ways to carry the snake with him, either hidden in the folds of his robe or in his schoolbag. Sometimes Draegan even got to go to meals, which were his favorite time to be with Harry; he could steal food off of the tables, relatively unnoticed, and slither across people's laps to frighten them.

Draegan slithered up the raven-haired boy's arm and looked at Harry once again, critically this time.

"_There isss sssomething you are not telling me_," Draegan hissed. "_Wasss it that Weasssel boy again? I will sssink my teeth into hisss flesssh if you like. It would be my pleasssure._"

"No, that's all right. I'm just frustrated because I tried to tell him and Hermione something very important and they wouldn't listen. Ron only cared about winning some stupid bet. Sometimes I feel like I don't even matter to him. And besides that, I feel like I just don't belong. It's like everyone knows my secret and everywhere I go someone looks at me strangely. Is it that obvious?" Harry responded in Parseltongue.

"_Isss that all?_"

"No. That stupid git Malfoy was messing with me again. Why can't he ever just leave me alone? He's all I can think about lately and it bothers me for some reason."

"_Don't be ssso paranoid. The only one who knowsss your sssecret is me, no?_" Draegan replied smoothly. "_Thisss Malfoy, he isss the blond one? Yesss, I think it isss him. You two would do well with each other. He sssure isss handsssome, if I mussst sssay.._."

"Draegan! I can still put you back in your cage, you know. And I won't sneak you into my schoolbag anymore," Harry threatened jokingly.

"_You are cruel, very cruel. You know I love getting out of thisss room to watch people. But I sssee the way you look at him, thisss pretty Malfoy boy. You can't deny it any longer. Asss they sssay, denial isss alwaysss the firssst ssstep to acceptance._" The cunning snake smiled mischeivously at Harry (if snakes could actually smile, of course), who looked shocked.

"You're saying I fancy Malfoy? That's not true!"

"_Isssn't it, though? Come on, you know you want to sssay it. You'll feel much bettter..._"

"I might be gay, but that doesn't mean I fancy just any hot boy that I happen to see. Besides..." Harry trailed off as he realized what he had just said. Had he really called Malfoy (Malfoy!) hot?

A smile tugged on Harry's lips as he thought of all the times he had watched the pale boy swagger down the hallway, slender hips swaying deliciously. And his eyes...They were always so cold, but Harry knew there had to be something deeper in those beautiful orbs.

Simply put, the blond was simply breathtaking.

Harry automatically tried to push all thoughts of Malfoy aside, seeing as all thoughts of Malfoy always seemed to bring him trouble.

But why did his heart beat so fast when he saw the Slytherin? Why did his breath always hitch in his chest whenever the blond got close to him, touched him, even looked at him? Up until now, Harry had equated it all to fear and dismissed it.

But that didn't explain why he looked for excuses to get the blond to touch him, even if it meant fighting. Hadn't Harry himself been guilty of picking a few fights with the boy just to hear his voice?

And every time Malfoy had shoved him up against a wall, threatening him, why did he stare at those elegant lips, hoping beyond hope that he would feel them brushing against his own?

But above all, why hadn't he realized all of this before? He had always refused to admit it, pushing it out of his head, but now that it was out in the open, why should he ignore it any longer?

Draegan flicked his tongue triumphantly. "_You sssee, you do like him. That wasssn't ssso hard, now wasss it?_"

"Damn snake. Okay, so maybe you're right. But only this once," he added, seeing the gleam in the serpent's eye. "But that doesn't mean anything! I mean, it's not like he's gay or anything..."

A look of comprehension dawned on Harry's face as he remembered the events of this morning. "So it has to be true, then...Why didn't I think of this before? Of_ course _Malfoy is gay!"

However, Harry's face fell as he realized that even if Malfoy _did_ swing the other way, there was no way the Slytherin would have any interest in him, a Gryffindor, and the Golden Boy at that.

"_Cheer up, young one. There'sss alwaysss that one Ssslytherin, what wasss hisss name? Marcusss Flint? Oh, he graduated, I remember. He wasss an ugly one, that boy...but at leassst he wasss gay like you..._"

"Gah! What's with you and Slytherins? Why not a nice Gryffindor? Or Ravenclaw?"

"_I am a sssnake…_"

"…Oh. Right then. That would explain a lot."

Just as Harry decided he felt like vomiting after the _oh_-so-wonderful thought of Marcus Flint, a familiar female voice was heard carrying up the stairs to the boys' dormitory. He felt guilty for deserting Hermione at breakfast earlier and Harry felt he owed her an explanation.

"Harry, are you up there? Are you all right? It seemed like there was something you wanted to say earlier, but Ron cut you off. Will you please come down and talk?"

"_Now'sss your chance! Go down and tell her your sssecret while that Weasssley boy isn't here to butt in. If you don't tell her now, I will..._"

"Nice try, Draegan. You know you can't tell her if you wanted to. She can't understand anything you say."

"Harry?"

"_Go!_" Draegan hissed, looking slightly put out from losing his threat's validity.

"If I tell her now, will you leave me alone about it?" Harry grumbled. The snake only blinked at him, and a moment later Harry could have sworn he saw the snake wink as well.

With Draegan still curled around his arm, Harry made his way downstairs to Gryffindor common room, bracing himself for the conversation to come.


	5. Wait, It's My Birthday?

Hey guys, sorry it's been so long. A LOT of things have changed in my life (including living in another country lol).

That and I just didn't know how to write this chapter cuz it's been so long. I had abandoned this to write _Memento Mori_ for a while, and I guess now I'm doing pretty much the opposite.

Also, I'm finishing this and posting it at like...2 am. So I haven't gone back and read through the whole chapter. I had this written in pieces and just kinda stuck it all together lol.

Anyway, on with the story!

oOo

**5. Wait…It's My Birthday?**

Hermione's face fell as she saw her friend descend the stairs of the boys' dormitory with a snake wrapped around him.

Merlin, how she absolutely _loathed_ the creature.

Even though she couldn't speak to it or understand it, she was absolutely _certain_ that the snake had it in for her. She couldn't count how many times she had found crumbs and half-chewed food that had been spit out all over her room. Didn't the foul thing know that she was borderline obsessed with cleanliness?

And to top it all off, the stupid…_animal_…had an attitude problem. How did Harry manage to put up with the pest? Honestly…

The Head Girl barely managed to suppress a shudder as she greeted the snake's companion as gently as she could. "Hey, about earlier…"

Harry silenced his friend with a wave of his hand. "Don't worry about it, 'Mi. I'm fine, really. And I'm sorry I rushed off like that. I just had a headache." Harry tried his best to give Hermione a reassuring smile, but it faltered when he saw her expression change. "Uhh…Hermione? I'm okay, really."

Hermione placed her hands on her hips in the typical irritated girl manner. A storm gathered behind her eyes as her protective mother hen nature took over. Boys could be so _stupid_ sometimes…

"Harry James Potter!" she clucked (no pun intended). "Do you even KNOW what day it is?"

"Er…Tuesday?"

"Try again."

"Wednesday?"

"I meant the DATE."

"Er…September Eighth…no…September Ninth…er…sometime in September?"

Hermione shook her head sadly. "Harry, it's September Ninth. Your birthday." [1]

"…Oh…I guess it is…right then."

"Harry, I'm sorry for getting upset with you, but I've noticed that you've seemed kind of distant lately. And then you don't even remember your own birthday? I'm worried, Harry, I really am. But we can talk about that later."

Hermione reached in her pocket and pulled out a small green velvet pouch. She handed it to Harry, who reached for it sheepishly. He hadn't meant to worry anybody. "Happy birthday, Harry," she whispered. "I love you. You're the best friend and brother a girl could ever wish for. And I mean that."

Harry blushed a fiery crimson as he slowly undid the pouch's drawstring. When it was loosened he gently tipped it over and a delicate silver necklace fell into his hand.

"Wow, 'Mione," he began, his voice thick with emotion. "I— I don't know what—"

"You don't need to say anything, Harry." Hermione stated, cutting the boy off. "Just wear it always, okay? That's thanks enough for me. I just want to know you're safe. And that you'll never forget me."

"Hermione, I—" Harry swallowed. "It's beautiful."

"See the little pendant hanging in the middle?"

Harry looked; sure enough, a snake of brightly polished silver looked up at him with emerald eyes. It was remarkable, really. The detail and intricacy of the sculpting astounded him. He vaguely wondered what Hermione must have gone through to get her hands on such a piece.

"It has a strong protection charm woven into its core. Each little scale is in face a tiny rune, see?" Harry nodded, though he was quite sure he couldn't figure out what any of the runes meant if he tried. "Nobody can purposely harm you as long as you wear it. And the chain is also spelled so that nobody but me or you can remove it." [2]

Harry looped the chain around his neck and tucked it into his shirt. The metal was cool against his skin and the necklace felt extremely heavy for its size. He was extremely grateful for the thoughtful gift and promised himself that he would never take it off.

"Hermione, this is great and all, but…how did you manage to afford this? I mean, no offense or anything, but it must have cost a fortune. Look at the detail! Look how tiny and intricate it is! And the spells? Do you have any idea how much people would charge for incredibly complex magic like that?"

"Don't be silly, Harry. I made it." Harry gaped at her, dumbfounded. She _made_ it? "Actually, I made all of them."

"_ALL_ of them?"

"Yes, _all_ of them. I made ones for myself, Draco, and Severus as well."

"But—"

"Don't get me wrong, it took a LOT of time and energy. I've spent the last year or so reading up on how to do it, and in the end it was a lot more difficult than I originally thought it'd be." Hermione sighed as Harry moved to interrupt her again. "Don't worry, I'll tell you more about it later. It's too complicated to explain right now."

Hermione pulled on the thin golden chain that rested on her neck, freeing it from her blouse. Hers was nearly identical to Harry's, save the color and the shape of the pendant. Whereas Harry's pendant was a snake, Hermione's was a miniature replica of a golden eagle.

Harry chuckled and shook his head. "I knew it."

"Knew what?" Hermione asked, blushing as she noticed that she had referred to Harry's main rivals by their first names. How much did he know?

"Everything," Harry said simply and shrugged.

"Oh…well…er…"

"Don't worry, I don't mind. And don't look so flustered; I've known for quite a while."

"So…Draco…"

"Yes."

"And…er…Sev—Snape?"

"Yes."

"_Every_thing?" Harry nodded as Hermione moaned into her hands. "So you're not…I mean…that is to say…you don't…"

"No, I'm not mad at you for not telling me. I figured you had your reasons. And, after all, everyone has their secrets." Harry winked mischievously. "Even me."

"Right. Like you being gay is THAT big of a secret."

"How did you…er…what? Says who?"

"Oh really? Care to deny it?" Hermione stared Harry straight in the eye. "...Didn't think so. And I know you fancy Draco as well. And don't even think of denying that one either."

"WHAT? Don't be ridiculous! It's Malfoy…you know…_Malfoy_." Harry hissed. "The stupid blond git that hates me!"

"I think it's you that's being ridiculous. Draco doesn't hate you. I DO live with him, after all. I know these things, trust me." Now it was Hermione's turn to wink. "And I see the way you stare at him when you think nobody else is looking."

"Er…but what about you and Snape?" Harry demanded, trying to change the subject.

"What about him?"

"I've seen the way YOU stare at HIM when you don't think anybody's looking!" Harry accused, pointing a finger in his friend's direction. "I mean, not that I care or anything. 'Cuz I think that you two are perfect for each other. But seriously, you are SUCH a bloody GIRL sometimes, I swear!"

Hermione's eyes flicked back and forth as they started to tear up. "Do you really mean that? That you think we belong together?" she whispered, suddenly not trusting her voice enough to actually speak out loud. "You don't think it's…gross? Or…or weird? Or…"

"Of course not," Harry replied softly, cupping the girl's face with his free hand. "I'm happy for you. And I'll always love you, no matter what."

Ignoring the snake that was still wrapped around Harry's arm (who, upon realizing the sappiness of the situation, had quickly become bored and fallen asleep), Hermione stepped forward and wrapped her arms around her best friend's neck.

"How about we just promise not to keep secrets from each other any longer?" Harry said, pulling back and looking Hermione in the eye. "We're family, after all. If not by blood, then by choice."

"Agreed. But we have to promise to tell each other everything, no matter what. Even if we think the other one's not going to like it."

"Okay. And we can talk about this more later. We have a lot of…catching up to do." Hermione blushed again. She wasn't looking forward to sharing certain aspects of her life with her so-called brother.

Draegan, who had awakened upon being squished by the hug the two Gryffindors had shared, slithered off Harry's arm angrily. "_Ssstupid humansss and their ssstupid emotionsss_," he muttered.

Harry bent down and kissed Hermione on the forehead before bending down to scoop up the forgotten snake. "_Sorry I forgot about you, Draegan. Things got a bit…emotional…"_

"_Ssso I noticed…" _the serpent replied bitterly. He hadn't appreciated being ignored.

"_Hey, I SAID I was sorry!"_ Harry hissed. He wasn't in the mood for another of Draegan's little snake tantrums. "_Go back upstairs, then. Go on! Into your cage!_"

The snake wasn't happy but obliged nonetheless. Harry shot Hermione an apologetic glance. He knew that speaking to the serpent always made her uneasy. Harry chuckled softly as he remembered all of the times that Hermione had made her…displeasure…with the snake known.

"What?" the girl asked, confusion evident in her wide brown eyes.

"Oh, nothing. I was just thinking about how fond you were of Draegan."

"That little menace! Don't even get me started!" Hermione's eyes darkened as she scowled. "Sometimes I wish I could speak Parseltongue so I could understand everything that little snot says! He just makes me so…so…_angry_!"

"Hey, no need to stomp your foot at me. And I'm sure the two of you will find some way to get along in time. So in the meantime, do you think you could just—AARGH!" Harry's face contorted in pain as he suddenly clutched his forehead.

"Harry? What's wrong?"

"Nothing…" he ground out, gritting his teeth. "Just…just…a little…headache…is all…"

"Harry, I think we should get you to the Hospital Wing."

"No! It's nothing…happens…all…the time…"

"Harry," Hermione began, her tone disapproving, "you really should get that checked out. That's not good, you know. What if…oh dear!"

Harry had fallen flat on his face when he passed out.

"I'll just…er…help?" she finished meekly. Where was Severus when you needed him?

oOo

**A/N: **Ugh, that was unbelievably fluffy and sappy. I didn't mean for this chapter to come out that way, but whatev. I thought Chapter 3 was bad, but this is pretty close to winning the ooey-gooey award. Yuck. And a lot more was supposed to happen other than just Harry and Hermione talking. But, like I said, whatever. If the chapter wanted to be written this way, who was I to stop it? Lol. I guess I was just feeling lonely when I wrote this T.T

[1] Yes, I am aware that Harry's birthday isn't September 9th. But, for all intents and purposes, it is in this story. And this story IS considered AU, so bear with me guys.

[2] I'm pretty sure I read about an idea like this in another story a while ago. So if it sounds suspiciously like something from one of your stories, and I've read it, let me know and I'll give you credit :)

**Coming up:** Harry goes to the Hospital Wing and gets some interesting news, and Draco realizes what exactly the voices he hears are.

**P.S.** I have the next chapter written. I just can't think of a title. When I get around to thinking of one I'll post it.

oOo

If you love it—let me know. If you hate it—let me know.

Thank you to those few who supported me and gave me real feedback. I really do appreciate it and you have not been forgotten. YOU are what keeps me writing and the story going.


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